


Invictus

by MarieMichaels



Category: One Piece
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Catzilla, Comedy, Family Drama, Family Feels, Healing, Luffy Being Luffy, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 19:16:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11214531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieMichaels/pseuds/MarieMichaels
Summary: After his foster father’s unexpected death, Law returns home for a funeral expecting to wrap up some things. What he doesn’t expect to find is the surprise secret brother Corazon’s been hiding. His name is Luffy, and from day one, Law knows he’s going to be a pain.





	1. Born to Drown, And One For All

**Author's Note:**

> Genre: Drama/Family/Romance
> 
> Characters: Law / Luffy with Bonney & Kidd… And Corazon.
> 
> Rated: M, for language, violence, adult situations and sensitive subject matter. 
> 
> (Warnings: M/M; Contains mentions of character death, graphic violence, and references of child abuse.)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to One Piece or its Characters, or the poem which shares its name with this story. Those rights would go to Eiichiro Oda and William Ernest Henley respectively.

 

* * *

 

 **Chapter One** : Born to Drown and All for One

The sun was beginning to set, but it was still hot as fuck as Law stood there in the cemetery, antique sword strapped to the back of his best black Armani suit, sweating his ass off.

 

Winter was a foreign concept in Dressrosa.

 

It had been an obnoxiously beautiful day, blue skies with just the right amount of fluffy white clouds—and it was turning into an obnoxiously scenic sunset. Tangerine skies, clouds tinged pink like cotton candy…

 

Law’s stomach revolted at the thought.

 

It’d been a beautiful service too. Not that it’d had anything to do with him. No, that would all be thanks to his sister. She’d miraculously managed to orchestrate the whole thing, all Law had to do was show up. But he’d managed to fuck that up as well. 

 

Like so many things in life.

 

He’d only made it here today because his sister had taken it upon herself to make the two-an-a-half hour drive by rental car to Law’s own apartment in Sabaody, just to check on him.

 

She’d been worried when he hadn’t returned her calls. Given the current circumstances Law couldn’t blame her. She’d found him of course, her dear and successful older brother, passed out in his own shower, dried bits of vomit in his hair, clinging to an empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

 

Which would’ve been embarrassing enough, but then, after finally managing to rouse him, he’d still been too inebriated to clean himself off.

 

So she’d had to take care of that too. Law still wasn’t sure how his tiny sister, a whopping five-foot-five, had managed to hold him up in the shower, all six-foot-four of him. But that was his sister. She was just awesome like that.

 

And she had only tried to drown him once.

 

Law was pretty sure the other times had been accidents.

 

She might have left him there, to recover from his stupidity on his own, if had it been any other day. But Law was thankful she hadn’t.  

 

Thanks to her efforts—and a decent number of traffic violations—they had both made it in time for the beginning of the memorial, where she’d given a touching eulogy, her eyes  tearing up as she stood at the podium.

 

Law himself only caught the first have of her speech.

 

He’d had to rush out midway to avoid puking in the pews.

 

He’d made it.

 

Barely.

 

To his eternal shame, he’d spent the remainder of the service, hugging a toilet in the men’s room.

 

His speedy retreat hadn’t gone unnoticed either.

 

People might have assumed it to have been caused by an onslaught of grief—if they hadn’t smelt the liquor fumes on his breath…

 

A shower and all the mouthwash in the world couldn’t fix that one. Sorry, sis.

 

It just proved what they’d thought of him all along. Law was a fuck up—a disappointment as a son.

 

Nothing he didn’t already know.

 

Ignoring the whispers, he’d managed to do his duty as a front pall bearer, and successfully held his stomach together during the funeral itself. But that had been the end of his tolerance.

 

Normally he couldn’t give two-fucks what they thought, but, Bonney had worked so hard to make everything perfect, and he didn’t want to fuck it up by getting into it with the other mourners. 

 

So now, here he was, standing alone over a freshly covered grave, sweating his ass off, avoiding their scrutiny by skipping out on the after reception.

 

Yeah…

 

It _had_ been a beautiful service. Even if he had missed most of it.

 

Law could only thank-fucking-god for sisters, because when it came to important shit, brothers were fucking useless. While Law could perform open heart surgery, and his brother easily kill a man with a teacup, neither one of them would have had the first clue about shit like floral arrangements or photographical montages. His brother didn’t have an organizational bone in his body. Law might have been able to struggle through it, if he hadn’t been mentally checked-out.

 

This left his younger sister, as usual, responsible for pulling their asses out of the fire.

 

And, as usual, she’d done a memorable job.

 

Law’s only real discrepancy, was with the headstone—or rather—not the marker itself, but its inscription. The words, elegantly scripted in black marble, just seemed so fucking inappropriate.

 

“… _Bloodied but unbowed?”_ Laws face screws up as he reads it again.

 

Normally, he would have blamed it on his brother—dark metaphors where more his kind of his thing—but as previously stated, brothers were fucking useless when dealing important shit. So no. It had to have been his sisters doing. And after everything she’d done, the shit she’d been through, he wouldn’t dare criticize her unusually _morbid_ choice of words.

 

Not out loud anyway

 

Speaking of, Law could hear the light sound of footsteps. High-heels, clipping down the walkway before crunching through the green, manicured grass.

 

They stop just behind him. He doesn’t bother turning around, knowing they could only belong to one person.

 

“I can hear you thinking,” Law murmurs, quietly, because sounds tended to carry in cemeteries.

 

“And what,“ comes the curious, feminine response, “—am I thinking?

 

Law closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, hangover still pounding away inside his skull. “Something condescending I’m sure,” he replies, only half-joking.

 

A few more footsteps, and Law opens his eyes, head turning only slightly, to see his sister standing beside him.

 

Even in his periphery, Bonney looks stunning as always.

 

Like Law, she had stood out among all the other mourners, but for different reasons.

 

Beautiful, but dangerous, Jewelry Bonney was a snakebite-heart with a bubblegum-smile.

 

Never one for standard black anything, she looks like a macabre sugarplum fairy, right down to the laced up leg ribbons. Her dress, a corset-styled top with matching frilly skirt, is all black lace and pink sugar frosting.

 

Her bubblegum pink hair is twisted up at the nape of her neck, and styled in an ornate braid. She’d added fuchsia highlights since he’d last seen it. It looked good, complimenting to her exotic facial features.

 

She’s watching him, with those mesmerizing eyes of hers.  Like sparkling amethyst. Though technically classified as blue, they were so rich, so deep, that they appeared purple.

 

In comparison, he’d always felt that his own eyes—which were also technically categorized as blue—were nothing but a pale, washed-out imitation. They were more _gray_ than anything. Like an ugly winter sky.

 

In any city that wasn’t Dressrosa, anyway.

 

“There’s a reception going on back at the house you know,” Bonney tests, and to her eternal credit, it isn’t in a condescending tone. Just conversational. “You should see all the shitty food people are giving us.”

 

“Hmn,” Law hums, and sticks his hands in his pockets. “Like there’s anything you won’t eat.”

 

“Not true,” she replies, smiling coyly. “Old Lady Tsuru broke out the toxic fudge,” she shrugs. “Figured I’d save that for you.”

 

Law mentally cringes. He’d once spent three days, sick as a dog with food poisoning, courtesy of that dish and a stupid dare on his brother’s part. He’d never forget it.

 

Law _hmph’s_ and his sister chuckles.

 

“We should get back,“ Bonney finally presses, lightly bumping him with her hip.

 

To Law this sounds like a horrible idea. The worst Idea. And he mentally struggles for any valid argument against it.

 

“I can’t,” Law says. Bonney looks at him expectantly. He shrugs. “It’s like Noah’s Arc in there…” he finishes weakly.

 

It’s a flimsy excuse.

 

His sister knows it.

 

Bonney rolls her eyes. “Well grab a damn life vest,” she replies, sarcastically. “It’s a funeral—somebody _died_. People tend to cry when that happens.”

 

Law winces.

 

Like he needed the reminder.

 

He’d almost forgotten about Bonny’s inability to pull punches. Over the years she’d never really grasped the concept of tact. She had, however, apparently learned to sense the discomfort of others because she sighs, giving Law a seemingly regretful look.

 

“We really _should_ be there.”

 

Law decides a change in topics is in order. “You’re staying at the hotel right?” he says, though he already knows the answer—knows that they’ve been in town for a few days already—knows that they are staying there. Not at the house.

 

_Roci’s house._

 

“Yeah, um,” Bonney says after a moment, sounding almost embarrassed. “Me and Kidd both have rooms. We just—uh, you know—we couldn’t…”

 

She doesn’t finish. Doesn’t have to. The message is loud and clear: ‘ _We just couldn’t stay in Roci’s house without him in it.’_

 

Law just shrugs. What could he say?

 

That Roci is dead?

 

That he isn’t ever going back to that house because he was now buried?

 

Practically beneath their feet? 

 

Right… because he really wants to see his sister cry some more.

 

He might be a dick, but he isn’t THAT much of a dick.

 

If his brother and sister want to stay at the stupid motel, instead of coming home, where they belong, with him—then that was just… fine.

 

“You could get a room too,” she says, hesitantly. “Then the three of us could head over to the house together, and you know, sort things out...”

 

“It’s fine Bon,” he says, shaking his head. “Really. It’s fine.”

 

 _It’s fine_.

 

Those words seem to be becoming his new mantra as of late, but that was okay.

 

Because it _is_ fine .

 

Really.

.

It’s _fine_ that his brother and sister can’t handle sleeping at Roci’s house. It’s _fine_ that he’s going to be staying there by himself, completely alone. It’s _fine_ dammit, because he’s _fine,_ and maybe if he says it enough he’ll actually start believing it—

 

His sister doesn’t look convinced.

 

Growing up, she’d always had the ability to see through Law’s bullshit. Under any other circumstance, she would have called him on it, but not today.

 

Not on this.

 

She just bites her lip. Because it was so very fucking obvious—even to a stranger—that just like her and Kidd, Law was so very, very fucking far from being _fine_.

 

They were all living in glass houses.

 

Each afraid of throwing the first stone, for fear that they’d be called on their own bullshit I’m-just-fine façade, because among the three of them, none of them were any good at dealing with emotions.

 

They might not have been blood related, but if there was one thing they all had in common, it was that they were all equal-parts fucked-up.

 

Hell, it was probably why they were all so close.

 

He could appreciate the irony in that.

 

 _‘Yeah_ ,’ Law thinks. ‘ _We’re all fine here folks. Move along. Nothing to see.’_ He can’t smother the laugh that escapes. At first its short self-deprecating kind of chuckle, but then it just seems to bubble over into something that’s—maybe—just a tad bit manic, because now his sister is looking at him sort of strangely…

 

She doesn’t say anything though. Still afraid of those stones apparently.

 

Whatever, so maybe Law was a little bit manic—but wasn’t it considered socially acceptable given the situation?

 

Wasn’t someone allowed to act a little crazy after burying the only parent they’d ever known?  Leaving said person practically alone in the world and experiencing a whole new level of hell  because—while that parent was now gone, forever—the one responsible for his death was still out there, somewhere, walking, _breathing_ …

 

Maybe _then_ , a person was allowed to go _just a little bit fucking crazy…_

 

And if society didn’t approve, well, _fuck_ them.

 

Law had never really given a flying-fuck what society thought of him anyway. If he had, he wouldn’t be standing in a cemetery with a Nodachi strapped to his back. He also wouldn’t be the surgeon whose body was practically covered in black tribal tattoos, the word _death_ printed across both sets of his knuckles.

 

That was his big fuck you to society right there, permanently inked into his skin, on display for the world to see…

 

Yeah.

 

Trafalgar Law gave not-one-shit what anyone thought of him.

 

The only man, whose opinion mattered, was dead.

 

From the bullet hole in his head…

 

Law practically chokes on his own twisted laughter. His body is trembling.

 

Winter must have settled itself over Law, because despite the heat, it feels like his insides are frozen, his blood is an icy cold weight in his veins that leaves him chilled all the way down to his bones.

 

Law feels like he’s about to crack. Like he’s going to fracture as his body shakes itself apart—

 

Suddenly, there’s a a pair small, warm arms wrapping themselves around his waist, and an equally warm body pressing into him. A head full of soft pink hair is tucking itself against his shoulder, just beneath his chin.  

 

Bonney doesn’t say a thing, but she does hold him tightly, the way only Bonney does, in a practical choke hold.

 

Normally Law would complain about the level strength she uses, but right now, it feels like that strength is the only thing that’s holding him together.So instead he buries his face in that soft pink hair and breathes deeply, inhaling the soothing scent of lavender. It’s from the special shampoo his sister has always favored.

 

It’s familiar and it’s Bonney.

 

Reminding him that he’s not completely alone. His eyes actually tear up a bit, and he’s so grateful that all he can do is wrap his own long arms around her, reciprocating the gesture.

 

They stand there like that for several long minutes, clinging to each other, holding each other up.

 

Eventually the trembling subsides and Law finally manages to reign in his emotions, putting them back behind the stonewall and letting the mask fall back into place.  He gives Bonney one last hard squeeze before they slowly ease apart.

 

Law’s hands go back into his pocket. Bonney gives a little sniff, lightly punching him before looking away as she straightens out the ruffles of her dress, carefully fluffing the fabric back out where it’d been pressed flat.

 

“You know,” she says at last, her eyes a little redder. “We really should get back. We left Kidd all alone back there. You _know_ he can’t swim either.”

 

She gives Law a teasing smile, which he returns, because it’s so true.

 

Sure enough, Kidd must’ve been _drowning_ by now…

 

But then he hears  the chinking sound that’s accompanying approach of another set of footsteps, these ones much heavier than Bonney’s, because they are being made by a familiar pair of clunky old combat boots.

 

“I don’t think it’s going to be a problem,” Law says, as a deep loud voice calls out to them.

 

“HEY!”

 

They turn around and there’s Kidd. Their heathen brother is marching towards them, silver chains chinking together as they swing from his black bondage pants. He’s decked out in his red leather trench coat and vintage Metallica t-shirt. His flaming red hair is swept back, as usual, with a pair of goggles.

 

He looks positively menacing as he glares at them, furiously, with those devilishly golden eyes of his.

 

Eustass Kidd was one pissed-off looking giant.

 

If Bonney was petite when compared to Law, then she was completely dwarfed when it came to Kidd. Most people were. Not even Law could measure up to their brother’s hulking six-foot-eight frame. Kidd towered over just about everything, and could easily scare most people into shitting themselves with just a look. He stops in front of them, wearing that same look right now.

 

Too bad for him, Law and Bonney are immune.

 

They knew that _angry_ was just Kidd’s default setting.

 

“If you fuckers were going to ditch,” Kidd growls, accusingly. “You could have at least _told_ me.”

 

Law rolls his eyes and Bonney waves a dismissive hand.

 

“Quit you’re bitching,” she says, clearly unimpressed.  “We’re all going back.”

 

Wait. What?

 

Law and Kidd’s faces both give her equally rebellious expressions of ‘ _Oh-hell-no_.’

 

“No way,” Kidd crosses his arms through the air protest. “I’m _not_ going back there. It’s like, a fucking Lifetime movie convention! I swear to God Bonney… if _one_ more old-fart tries to fucking _hug_ me—“

 

Law snickers, because honestly, who would _dare_?

 

“Augh!” Bonney throws her arms up, clearly fed up with her brothers and their intolerance for waterworks.  “Seriously! What is _wrong_ with you two?”

 

Kidd gives Law a look and mouths ‘ _What’d you do_?’

 

Law just shrugs. Because, sisters, right?

 

“Really, guys?” Bonney looks back and forth between them, exasperated. “You’re both just—just, fucking _mean_.”

 

Both Law and Kidd turn to give her twin looks of disbelief.

 

Bonney blinks. “What?”

 

“Hello—Misses Pot? Have you met the fuckin’ kettle?” says Kid.

 

“Seriously Bon,” says Law.

 

There’s a set of equally un-masculine yelps as Bonney punches both of them in their shoulders. Law mentally curses her damn boney knuckles, but isn’t dumb enough to say anything out loud.

 

Kidd however was a slow learner.

 

“Violent bitc—OW!” Kiss hisses, stepping back out of striking distance, covering his abused arm after Bonney gets him again, “Fine then,” he grumbles, petulantly. “ _You_ go back there.”

 

Bonney’s mouth falls open. “Are you crazy?” she says, voice rising several octaves higher. “I’m not going back there by myself!”

 

Translation: ‘ _I can’t deal with crying people either_.’

 

Law shakes his head. Hypocrite.

 

“Well then,” Kidd smirks, looking pleased with himself. “It looks like we’re all going to be out here for awhile. So. I say…” he smiles wickedly, reaching into his oversized pockets, pulling out a glass bottle filled with sloshing clear liquid. “—we have ourselves a good, old-fashioned, Irish wake.”

 

Law’s stomach nearly revolts at the thought.

 

Bonney just gives Kidd a look, because this is such typical Kidd behavior. “Wakes are _before_ the funeral. And they are only _Irish_ if you’re _Irish_ ,” she says, pointedly. “You just want to get smashed.”

 

“Fine then,” says Kidd, notably not arguing. “None for you then.”

 

Bonney scoffs, rolling her eyes.

 

He turns to Law then, who still looks queasy. “Come on bro, its _moonshine_.” And it’s the way he says it, stressing the word like it made all the difference.

 

Law is not convinced. “Where’d you even get that stuff?”

 

Kidd shrugs nonchalantly. “Stole it out of Smokey’s truck.”

 

Law shakes his head. He really isn’t surprised that Kidd had known where to find Ol’ Smokey’s stash, or that he’d obviously broken in to the detective’s truck to get it. Things like locks had never really deterred Kidd.

 

“Classy,” Bonney mutters.

 

Kidd ignores her, waving the bottle at Law. “Hair-of-the-dog Law,” he tempts. “Get rid of that hangover and get one over on Smoker.”

 

Law has serious doubts about that first thing, but second has serious potential. Law never had been able to pass up any opportunity to piss off Smokey.  Kidd had hooked him, and by the look on his face he knew it too. “Alright,” Law sighs, “Pass it here.”

 

“Yes!” Kidd pumps his free hand in the air, because now he’s got his co-conspirator on board with him.

 

Bonney groans. “You too?”

 

“Relax Bon-bon,” says Kidd, grinning as he passes the bottle to Law. “It’s not like we’re going to drown our sorrows—we’re just taking them for a little swim.”

 

“ _You_ don’t know how to swim,” Bonney counters. “ _You_ only know how to get shitfaced.”

                

“Also a valid point,” Kidd nods, agreeing without shame.

 

Law ignores them both as he unscrews the metal top. The fumes are strong. He hesitates the briefest of seconds before taking a deep swig—it tastes like fire, and burns all the way down his esophagus and into his stomach.

 

“Augh,” Law makes a horrible face. His eyes feel like they are melting as they tear up. He gives a few sputtering coughs, trying to keep the acid in his stomach from coming back up. He wipes his eyes and mouth with the back of his sleeve, before screwing the lid back on loosely and passing the bottle back to Kidd.

 

It never makes it to him though, because Bonney intercepts it, rolling her eyes. “Give me that,” she grumbles.

 

“Attagirl Bon-bon!” Kid whoops, arms going up in victory.

 

Bonney scowls at his antics, looking like she wants to hit him again—but Kidd knows they’ve got her.

 

It was the unspoken, and unbreakable, majority rule:

 

What they did—they did together.

 

Roci would laugh and call them Musketeers.

 

_One for all._

 

“I hate both you both.” Bonney makes a face at the bottle, but she takes off the top and takes a long swallow anyway. She ends up coughing way worse than Law, who just chuckles as Kidd smacks her on the back. “God,” she sputters at last, “That is vile”

 

Kidd just laughs. “Cheers to that!”

 

So, in the end, they all ended up in the pool.

 

The sun went down, and together, they managed to polish off Smoker’s moonshine.

 

Sitting and drinking around Roci’s grave, they took turns taking shots and raising toasts, to the tombstone, which bore the name of the man who’d been a father, to each of them, and in every sense of the word…

 

 

~ 1972 – 2016 ~

 _Rocinante “Corazon_ ” _Don Quixote_

_‘…Bloodied but unbowed.’_

 

 

 

X X X

 

 

Law doesn’t get back to the house until after ten. Kidd and Bonney had taken a taxi back to the hotel, but he refused the ride when they offered, because he actually wanted to walk.

 

Though he hadn’t gone straight home of course.

 

After he’d waved off his siblings, he’d felt very nicely buzzed. While basking in the ability to not think for awhile, he’d decided to take an aimless stroll through the plots.

 

It was a predictably clear night, the moon bathing everything in a soothing blue light and Law quickly found himself in the oldest part of the cemetery, admiring the larger, more unique markers.

 

There were quite a few statues, some broken or crumbling, but to Law it was all part of the appeal.

 

It was wilder there, the layout more chaotic, the trees and shrubbery denser, and humanity felt so much farther away.

 

It had been relaxing and quiet, until he’d started hearing weird, suspiciously animal-like noises, and Law suddenly remembered a documentary he’d watched recently. It had been all about coyotes, how there were thousands of them living in the cities, right in peoples back yards, and how they were especially fond of making their homes in cemeteries.

 

Law was so not an animal person. Especially not a coyote-animal person, so he’d made the quick decision that it was time to end his macabre midnight wanderings and head home. 

 

It’s a short trip, and once he’s there, under the safety of the porch light, he feels silly about being so jumpy, especially once he checks his pockets and realizes that he’s lost his keys somewhere along the way.

 

“Sonnofa-“ Law slurs slightly. Now what? Even if he went back, he’d never be able to find them now, isn’t even sure when they might have fallen out. Luckily for him, at least he still has his phone; so he does what he’s always done in a crisis such as this.

 

He calls Bonney.

 

It only rings twice before she answers. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah-hey,” Law responds, clearing his throat. “Uh-well, I’m home... Funny thing though,” Law rubs the back of his neck, “I kinda, um. Lost my keys? Somewhere. Not… not really _sure_.”

 

Bonney sighs into the phone. “Spare key Law,” she says tiredly. “Top of the doorframe.”

 

“Ah. Shit,” Law wants to face-palm himself, because, duh, he should’ve known that. “Yeah, hang on, I’m getting it.”

 

Bonney makes a sound, acknowledging him.

 

Law reaches up to the top of the front doorframe, feeling blindly for a second, before his fingers find the cool metal of the key and he pulls it down.

 

If there was one thing Roci could always be dependable on, it was locking himself out of his own home. Half of the neighborhood was probably aware of just where this key was located, considering the number of times his adoptive father had had to use it.

 

“Got it,” Law says, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a half-smile, remembering the number of times he’d come home, back before Bonney had suggested the hide-a-key, when he’d find Roci sitting on the porch steps, grinning, lit cigarette in his mouth and a dozen dead ones at his feet, waiting for one of his kids to come home and let him inside. 

 

Law held the key in his hand, thumb rubbing over the cool metal fondly. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it,” he says. Bonney hmms and he shakes his head before using it to unlock the door, and going inside.

 

The door creaks, much louder than he remembers it ever being before, as he reaches out in the darkness to flip on the light switch.

 

Law pockets the spare key.

 

He won’t admit that he hesitates. Just for a moment. Staring into the familiar, yet foreign space that’s always been home.

 

He shuts the door behind him—again, a much louder sound than he remembers—and walks inside.

 

Everything is just as it’s always been. Everything is still in its place. The mismatched furniture, the different knickknacks, the photographs on the walls, everything is _still the same_ …

 

It’s the silence and stillness that dispels the illusion.

 

Walking, slowly, through the house is a strangely deafening experience.

 

There should be music playing, something old like The Beatle’s, maybe Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds, should be competing with Kidd’s screeching metal.

 

Kidd and Bonney should be pacing around, Bonney yelling into the phone with Kidd trailing behind making obnoxious gestures and interruptions.

 

And Roci himself should have been sitting in the kitchen, at the table, cigarette in his hand, smile on his face, observing all the antics of his children…

 

Law’s throat feels tight.

 

“Law?” Bonney’s voice comes through the phone, he’d forgotten it was still on, and it shakes him from his thoughts.

 

It’s a more than welcome disruption.

 

“Y-yeah, uh—No, I’m here. I’m in.” Law squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing them with the heel of his free hand, before he opens them again, blinking. “Yeah, I’m…I’m good…” he clears his throat.

 

“Well, good,” Bonney says. “I’m glad you remembered how to use _a key_. Now –”

 

“Yeah. No—I got it. Hey…” Law interrupts, because it sounded like she was about to hang up, and he really doesn’t want her to hang up just yet. So his brain scrambles for something, anything that they could talk about.

 

Something not painful anyway.

 

His eyes dart around and he notices something he’d overlooked at first. There are clothes, things that are obviously not Roci’s (who had a very distinct choice of apparel) scattered around.

 

Law picks up a red sleeveless hoodie that’s draped over a chair. It’s too small to have ever belonged to Kidd. “Hey, did you leave some stuff over here?” Law asks.

 

“No, all my stuff’s here,” she says. “Why what’re you looking at?”

 

“Some clothes,” he says, and there’s more. Like some torn off shorts and a few t-shirts, also pretty small.  “They look kind of old.”

 

“Hmm. I don’t remember seeing anything laying around earlier— _not that I was actually there long enough to really look,_ ” Bonney mumbles grumpily, because she, of course, had had to hunt down her missing brother. ”But guess they _could_ be mine, if they’re old. Maybe Roci was doing some cleaning,” she says, and Law can imagine her shrugging. “What’s there?”

 

“I dunno,” Law says. “Like… a red jacket? Some old jeans, some shirts—”

 

“Gee, that’s specific,” says Bonney sarcastically. “I don’t remember any red jackets. Read me some of the labels.”

 

 Law does, naming off the different brands, rolling his eyes, because of _course_ his sister would recognize those. Bonney _never_ forgot a label.

 

“Wait—wait. Hang on,” Bonney interrupts. “You said they’re _mine_?”

 

Law blinks. “Well, yeah,” he says. “They’re small as shit. “

 

Bonney scoffs. “What are the sizes?” she asks. “Specifically.”

 

“Ugh,” Law groans, totally not seeing the point of this, but he finds the jackets tag.  He blinks. The print looks like it’s squirming around so he kind of has to squint before he can read the fine print…

 

“ _Extra-small,_ ” he huffs, putting the hoodie back. “Like I said.”

 

Bonney makes an annoyed sound. “Pant size moron.”

 

Law grumbles, picking up a pair of the shorts, he doesn’t really see what the difference is. Small was small. “They’re 28-30’s.”

 

Bonney snorts. “Law you dumbass,” she says. “Those are BOYS clothes.”

 

“Huh…”Laws face scrunches up in confusion. “Well they aren’t mine and they can’t be Kidd’s.” His brother had never been small a day in his life.

 

“Hmn,” Bonney says after a minute, like she’s thinking about something. “Maybe they’re something someone donated?”

 

Law hums. “Yeah. I guess.” It would make sense; Roci was a retired cop-turned-social-worker, so he was always getting donations for shit. So great, mystery solved. Law tosses the pants back.

 

But now what? He still didn’t feel like hanging up.

 

Then he has an idea. Something sure to get his sister talking.

 

He makes his way into the kitchen and—

 

“Ah-shit,” Law stumbles, tripping over some dishes someone left on the floor.

 

“Now what?” comes Bonney’s exasperated voice. Law realizes he’s probably keeping her from sleeping. Doesn’t care.

 

“Someone left some dishes on the floor,” he mutters, because seriously, what the hell? Who leaves dishes on the floor? Not that he bothers picking them up…

 

“Kidd.” Bonney says, and Law agrees.

 

Yeah. Probably.

 

He ignores the dishes. Instead he moves to the island counter, ignoring all the different plates full of Ceram-wrapped foods that had been _thoughtfully_ left behind (Including, he notices with disgust, a plateful of Old Tsuru’s toxic fudge.) and goes to the end drawer.  

 

Pulling it open, he takes out what he’s after and closes it loudly.

 

“What was that?” his sister asks.

 

Law is already smirking, sliding his sword off and laying the Nodachi on the kitchen table. He pulls out a chair, sitting down with his prizes, replying with a falsely innocent “Nothing.”

 

Law opens the pack of cigarettes, the only brand Roci ever smoked, putting one in his mouth. He takes the classic Zippo lighter, its side panels embossed with the ace of hearts insignia, holding it close to the cigarette—and incidentally the _phone_ —in his mouth, before flipping the top back, making  a distinct metallic _chink_.

 

“Laaaw,” Bonney’s voice comes through the phone.

 

Law hits the striker and hmms a response, knowing damn well he sounds like he has something in his mouth.

 

“You’re not _smoking_ are you?”

 

Law knows this is an accusation and not an actual question.

 

“Mmh,” he chuckles to himself, lighting the cigarette. He takes deep hit before exhaling through pearly white teeth, right into the mouthpiece. “ _Nope_ ,” he drawls smugly.

 

“Trafalgar Law,” Bonney says. “I know you’re drunk, but you BETTER not burn the house down. I thought you were a damn doctor! That shit will kill you—“ Bonney gripes on as Law just smiles to himself.

 

Suddenly there’s a thumping sound from somewhere above.

 

‘ _What the hell?_ ’ Law thinks, looking up. And because he _is_ drunk, he accidently lets the end of the lit cigarette tilt against his knuckle.

 

“Fuck!” Law hisses, dropping the cigarette and nearly the phone along with it.

 

“What? What happened?” Bonney’s concerned voice is in his ear.

 

Law holds the phone between his cheek and shoulder, sucking on his burnt knuckle while reaching down for the culprit. “Burnt myself…” he murmurs absently.

 

“Serves you right,” Bonney mocks, and then, “I thought you weren’t smoking!”

 

Law scoffs. “Like you believed it.” Bonney starts bitching some more, but then he hears it again. _Thump_. “What…the hell?”

 

“Law—“

 

“Sshh,” Law hushes her, standing up. He kills the cigarette in the ashtray. “Hang on.”

 

“Why, what’d you do—“ But Law cuts her off.

 

“Bonney, shut up a sec,” Law listens for it.

 

Bonney exhales harshly. “Don’t you tell me to—“

 

“Really, I keep hearing something…”

 

There’s a brief silence, and then:

_Th-thump_.

 

“There it is again. I can hear it, there’s—I think—there’s something... something is upstairs...”he trails off, moving out of the kitchen now, towards the staircase, still listening.

 

What could possibly be up there?

 

Bonney actually goes silent for a moment, and then “What do you mean?”

 

Law rolls his eyes. “I mean, exactly what I said—there is _something_ upstairs. I can hear it knocking around in one of the bedrooms up there,” he says, before quickly adding “I’m going to check it out—hold up a sec.”

 

“Law!” he can hear his sisters warning, but he’s already putting the phone down—and _maybe_ it’s the level alcohol running through him—because he’s already climbing the stairs. And he’s not really _thinking_ —about silly things like armed intruders, or home invasions, or that _maybe_ he should be grabbing his sword—only that he really _really_ wants to find out what’s up there.

 

Once he’s on the top landing, after taking the steps two at a time and, amazingly, not tripping over his own feet, he flips on some of the lights.

 

He’s still got the phone in his hand, and he can hear Bonney’s muffled protests coming through, but other than that it’s quiet.  And he’s not really sure where to start. There are three bedrooms up here and that sound could have been coming from any of them. He doesn’t feel like searching through each of them trying to figure out.

 

He’s about put the phone back to his ear, because his sisters pitch is becoming noticeably higher and louder, when he hears it again, distinctly coming from the last room.

 

His room.

 

Law narrows his eyes, and he lifts up the phone to try and pacify his sister, while walking towards his old bedroom. “Bonney calm down, I’m checking it out, okay?”

 

“NO! It is _not_ okay! What are you THINKING?!” Bonney practically shrieks through the phone, in a pitch only _dogs_ can hear.

 

Law winces and has to hold the earpiece several inches from his ear to avoid going deaf. Bonney always overreacts. “Chill Bonney, _Jesus_.”

 

“What if it’s a PERSON making that noise?!”

 

“Tch,” Law clicks his tongue. Like he couldn’t handle it if it turned out to be a person up here. Drunk or not, Law could handle himself.  “It’s fine look, I’ll be right back. Don’t have a coronary.”

 

He hesitates at the door, not because of thoughts like burglars, but because its been a really long time since he’s been in this room.

 

Too long.

 

Law breathes in, and eases the door open slowly, the light from the hall pouring in behind him.

 

He can’t see anything, nothing human-shaped anyway, so he steps inside, hitting the switch on the wall.

 

The light inside the room comes on, but there’s nothing really out of the ordinary, other than the fact that it’s filled with stacks of boxes, some of which have been knocked over. It looks like Roci’s been using it for storage. Something about that makes his chest clench and his throat tighten.

 

It was like looking at physical evidence of his absence.  Like Roci really hadn’t expected Law to come home…           

 

He wondered. Were Kidd’s and Bonney’s rooms like this?

 

Law swallows hard, clearing his throat a little, and starts searching the room more thoroughly.

 

The contents that had spilt out of the boxes looked like more donations, it wasn’t anything he recognized, just more small clothes, some books and other odds and ends that weren’t his. Actually, it looked as if most of his things had been packed away.

 

There were, he noticed however, quite a bit of old food wrappers, even some soda bottles, strewn around the room. The only thing he could think was that, _maybe,_ the garbage had attracted rats?

 

God, Law hoped not. Rats were so damn disgusting. With their twitchy noses and glassy black eyes. They carried any number of diseases, things like rabies and bubonic plague and were just— _gross_.

 

He lifted the phone. “Ugh,” he moans. “I think—it might be rats…”

 

Bonney breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Rats?”

 

“Yeah I mean,” he nudges one of the boxes with his foot, ready to jump back should anything small and furry jump out at him. “I found some stuff upstairs—looks like Roci was storing some stuff up here. There’s like, food containers and shit.” 

 

“Where at?” asks Bonney.

 

“My room.”  Law reaches out and picks up an old straw hat that’s perching on one of the bed banisters. Definitely not his. Law’s hats tended to be of the fuzzy variety,

 

“Oh…” There’s a noticeably heavy silence on the other end of the line.

 

Law’s eyes narrow.  He sets the straw hat back down. “Bonney—did you…” Law clears his throat. “I mean… did you know?”

 

More silence. He hears Bonney take a slow breath. “Yeah… yeah, I knew. It’s—it’s been that way for awhile.”

 

Laws mouth falls a bit. “How long?” He doesn’t know why, but this, somehow, feels like a betrayal. Like, how could Bonney have known? She could’ve warned him, could’ve let him know…

 

“Law, look, it’s not really—I mean, it’s just a couple of boxes right? It’s not really important.”

 

Law is about to point out that, yes, it damn well _is_ important, when he catches a flash of movement from his periphery. “Shit, hang on Bonney.”

 

Law turns around, expecting to see an ugly little furry body skittering around—maybe a pair of beady eyes staring at him—but what he gets instead is a another flash of movement—again just out of his line of sight—only this time its noticeably larger…

 

 _Much_ larger than a damn rat.  

 

And fast... he’s not sure where it—

 

“Law…?” Bonney’s voice is concerned. “What’s going on?”

 

“Something’s in here with me…” he says quietly.

 

A box tips over behind him and he can hear claws scratching across the wooden floorboards—he spins around. Something’s just run back behind the closet. His heart is starting to pump pure adrenaline because—fuck—this _something_ very large…and very furry…and kind of grayish-blonde and …oh-my-god—

 

“Fucking coyote…” Law audibly swallows, stepping back, suddenly wishing for his sword downstairs, right where he left it. Shit. Why’d he do that?

 

Stupid Law. _Stupid- stupid-stu—_

 

“ _What_? Law, did you say _coyote_?”

 

Law nods, before remembering that Bonney can’t actually see him nodding. “Yeah I— _fuck_. Bonney this thing is fucking _huge_.” All Law can think about now is that stupid documentary he watched, how coyotes were scavengers, how they ate trash and broke into peoples houses and how they ate this one girl—and _fuck_ , this is so much worse than dealing with rats.

 

“I thought you were in the house!”

 

“Sonnofa…!” Law jumps. Something else tips over to his left. How’d it get over there? It was like this thing was circling him, sizing him up.

 

Law curses, tries blindly side stepping—which was a lot harder to do with the alcohol onboard—across the cluttered floor, wanting to get to the door. If he could just shut the damn thing in here…

 

 _Why_ couldn’t it have been a damn _person?_

People he could deal with, but things with fur tended to hate him.  Tended to try and maul and maim and—

 

“Law!” Bonney is yelling into the phone.

 

Laws feels like he’s been shot up with epinephrine, like his hearts going to beat its way out of his chest. With his eyes still glued in the animals approximate location, he trips over something and ends up stumbling into a stack of boxes.

 

“Fuck!” Law curses, Bonney is still yelling, but he’s dropped the phone. It hits the floor. Slides out of reach. He doesn’t dare go after it, doesn’t dare lean down, giving this thing an opening.

 

 _Screw_ the phone.

 

He can call his sister from the one _down_ stairs. He is not spending the night in the ER getting rabies shots and stitches.

 

He kicks the debris aside, he’s almost to the door. There’s so much shit on the floor—fuck he’s almost—

 

**_CRASH!_ **

****

More boxes.

****

And— _FWOMP!_ —Law’s fallen. He’s hit the floor, he’s—

 

“SHIT!” Something lunges at him—It’s right in his face!—Law throws up his arms—It’s _…!_

 

“AHH!” Law screams.

“ _RREEEEAR!”_

 

Bonney’s screaming too.

 

_“HSSSSS!”_

 

 

X X X

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Bonney bursts through the front door, wide eyed, face flushed, looking like she’s just run the whole way from the hotel, only to find her brother, still in one piece, sitting calmly on the stairs with a flat expression on his face.

 

“Wh-what…” she pants, leaning over, hands on her knees, “…What h-happened?”

 

“Did you know,” Law says, nonchalantly, fingering a set of fresh set of fine scratches on his cheek. “—Roci had a cat.”

 

“L-aw...? Your face. It’s—” Bonney’s looking like her brains having trouble catching up, but then her face screws up. “Wait—did you just say _cat_?”

 

“Apparently,” Law continues, “He’s been feeding it. In the _kitchen_. It’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen. It’s—“

 

Bonney holds up a hand.

 

“No, no, wait—cat?” her mouth drops open in disbelief. She looks like she’s about to smack him, her voice rising high. “A fucking _cat_?”

 

“Yeah,” says Law, slowly.

 

“Really?!” Bonney shouts. “A-fucking-cat! _Really_ Law?!” she accuses loudly, jabbing a finger at him. “You said _coyote_!”  

 

“Hey!“ Law defends. “You should see this thing! This isn’t just a cat! It’s fucking huge, it’s—“

 

“A FUCKING CAT LAW!” Bonney looks near hysterical.

 

Law blinks. “Y-yeah.”

 

“I THOUGHT YOU WERE BEING MAULED!” Bonney shouts, flailing her arms, and Law really starts to take in his sister’s frenzied appearance:  Her hair’s a mess, she’s got slippers on her feet and she’s not even wearing real clothes. His normally immaculate, fashionista sister, is standing there, barely dressed, in nothing but pajamas.

 

He tries to imagine her having fled the hotel, through the lobby, looking like this; wonders what could have possibly possessed her, and then realizes. Damn.

 

He fucked up.

 

Bonney smacks him in the back of the head. “You’re a fucking moron!” she swears, but its lacking its usual heat. Law had really frightened her, and that made him feel like shit.

 

Now Law’s standing and before she can resist, he’s hugging his sister. She stiffens for a second, before grumbling a low “You really suck Law,” and then she’s hugging him back.

 

“Yeah I know,” he comforts.

 

Bonney clears her throat after a minute, pushing him away, she’s breathing easier.  She gives him a rough shove before heading into the living room. “I get the big couch” she says, then waves over her shoulder, “You get Kidd.”

 

“You’re staying?” Law asks, hopefully. And then “Wait, Kidd’s here?”

 

“Of course I am.” She calls out, already curling up at one end of the longer couch.  “And of course he is. He’s on the front lawn where I left him,” she looks back at Law, eyebrow rising. “Did you think I was going to take on some rabid coyote by myself?” she snorts, “He was going to be the bait.”

 

Law just laughs. Shaking his head, because, knowing his sister, it’s exactly something she would do.

 

Bonney’s pulling down the afghan and wrapping it around herself, muttering. “Honestly…Can’t leave either of you two alone…”

 

Law just grins.

 

Eventually he manages to rouse Kidd into a semi conscious state and walks him inside. He passes out again on the floor and Law and Bonney leave him there, unanimously deciding its his own fault for drinking so much.

 

Law _is_ thoughtful enough to put him in recovery position so he doesn’t pull a Hendrix.

 

And despite earlier claims, Bonney ends up sharing the long couch. Though she does make him get his own blanket.

 

Law’s even nice enough to grab one for Kidd while he’s at it.

 

For Law it’s a familiar scene, with him and Bonney lying stretched out at opposite ends of the couch and Eustass snoring from the floor. Back when they’d all lived under this same roof, they’d often passed out in a similar fashion. Law couldn’t count the number of times they’d all fallen asleep, camped out haphazardly around the living room because of one thing or another.

 

It was a comforting feeling.

 

“Really Law,” Bonney says tiredly, blanket pulled up to her chin. “How the hell do you confuse Puss-in-boots for Wile E. Coyote?” She gives him one last kick beneath the blankets for good measure.

 

“Hey,” says Law, defensively, pulling his leg back. “You should see this thing. The size of it—it’s like Catzilla. And I swear to Christ, it’s the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen.”

 

Bonney starts to laugh quietly.

 

Law’s brow furrows. “What?”

 

“Nothing,” she smiles, “It’s just. You’re so surprised,” she gives him a pointed look. “Roci always did have a thing for _ugly_ strays.”

 

Law blinks. And then finds he himself smiling too.

 

Yeah, he supposed, maybe, it wasn’t such a surprise.

 

It was true. Roci definitely made a habit of taking in the world’s _unwanted_.

 

After all, he had taken _them_ in.

 

“I guess your right…”

 

“’Course I am,” she half shrugs.

 

Law snorts.

 

“So,” Bonney asks, settling into the couch. “What _are_ you going to do with Catzilla?”

 

“Feed it I guess” he shrugs. It was only one fur-ball. How much trouble could it be? Plus it had been Roci’s, and for Law that sealed the decision.

 

“I can handle one stupid cat.” And he could. If Roci had been able to handle three teenagers, then Law could definitely handle _one_ stupid cat.

 

“ _Right_.” And its silent for a moment, Law thinks maybe she’s fallen asleep but then she says, softly, “He wasn’t there you know.”

 

Law looks at his sister, but she doesn’t meet his eyes.

 

“I didn’t see him. At the funeral.” Bonney bites her lower lip worriedly. “I mean, it’s not like I _invited_ him or anything but…  Do you—I mean…Do you think he knows?” The air is suddenly heavier. There’s only one person his sister could be talking about.

 

“Of course he knows,” Law’s face darkens. His eyes are deeper, stormier. “He always knows…”

 

”Stupid pink-fucker,” Kidd grumbles, rolling over on the floor. And just like that the tension is broken.

 

 Law snorts and snickers.

 

“Oi! “ Bonney smiles, rolling her eyes. “Jarhead! Aren’t you supposed to be too drunk to be conscious?”

 

“Mmh,” Kidd murmurs, trying to get comfortable on the floor. “ _Semper-fi_ bitch.”

 

Law and Bonney both laugh. She tosses a cushion at Kidd’s head and he oof’s, but instead of throwing it back, he curls up with it, seemingly going back to sleep.

 

‘ _Always faithful_.’ Law thought. It suited both his brother and his sister.

 

Settling in for the night, Law listens to the quiet rhythm of Bonney’s breathing and the rumble of Kidd’s freight train snoring, and he smiles to himself.

 

Because for the first time all night, Law finally feels like he’s home.

 

He hadn’t realized it, but he had been afraid. From the moment he’d gotten the horrible call, he’d been afraid. That without Roci acting as the glue holding them together, somehow, everything would fall apart.

 

That he would be left alone. Again.

 

He should have known better.

 

Because the minute they’d thought he needed them, they were there. Still _were_ here. Fully-clothed, drunk or not.

 

And Law had never been more grateful.

 

_All for one._

 

Yes. Rocinante was gone. He had died. But the family he had created was still here. And Law knew that, somehow, they were going to survive.

 

There was another, heavy, _thump_ from somewhere upstairs. Law looks up, and then rolls his eyes, turning over. “Stupid cat,” he mutters.

 

A pair of yellow eyes watches him from beneath an end table, its owner twitching its tail and glaring at this new human with disdain.

 

There’s a few more soft thumps from above.

 

But Law ignores them, pulling the blanket over his head, and letting the peaceful feeling in his chest carry him into sleep.

 

* * *

 

A/N: So that’s the first chapter, sorry, I know its kinda long, but I wasn’t sure where to cut it. This is my first fic and the idea’s been kinda beating around in my head for awhile. Hopefully I didn’t mess it up too much. Let me know what you think.

 

* * *

 


	2. Chapter Two: Can We Keep Him? And Two-to-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _________________________________________________________________________________-
> 
> Kidd turns and looks, “Oh…my god.” His brother’s mouth soundlessly drops open. Law is just nodding, glad someone else is just as shocked as he is and then “What did you do?”
> 
> Wait. What?
> 
> “Me?!” Laws mouth gapes in disbelief.
> 
> “What?” asks Bonney, squeezing in beside them, “What’d he do?”
> 
> “Law killed a kid!” Kidd blurted.
> 
> “He WHAT?!”
> 
> “I what?!”
> 
> _____________________________________________________________-

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Chapter Two** : Can We Keep Him? And Two-to-One

 

 

 

_Laws legs are staining, his calve and thigh muscles are burning, pushed to their limits as he runs through the darkness._

_He needs to get out of this place, but the scenes keep changing all helter-skelter. First it’s a crooked industrial alley, but then it changes. Suddenly he’s fleeing through an abandoned parking lot._

_Sounds are echoing around in the black fog._

_Twisted heinous laughter. Sharp steel singing as it slices through the air. It’ making Laws heart beat desperately against the walls of his chest, it’s pounding away in a furious crescendo._

_Blood and pink feathers._

_Then there’s the sick CRACK of a gunshot._

 

Law jerks forward, sitting straight up, clutching at his chest. The whites of his eyes are showing all the way around dark irises that are currently the color of thunderclouds. His vision is tunneled, black spots obscuring his sight. One hand reaches out, blindly searching for the familiar cylindrical body of his sword. He’s been sleeping with it every night since Roci’s death, and he quickly becomes frantic when he finds nothing but the empty folds of his blanket. Law’s throat tightens as he twists and turns, trying to locate the Nodachi.

 

The realization that he’s not even in his own bed is a disorientating experience. It’d been a long time since he’d woken up anywhere other than his on apartment. From the soft light that’s filtering in through the curtains he discerns it to still be early morning—if not late afternoon. Law tosses the afghan aside and swings his legs off the couch, with his feet almost coming down on top of an instantly recognizable head full of flaming red hair.

 

Kidd’s chest is rising and falling in deep, even breaths. The sight of his brother’s hulking form—sprawled out, flat on his back, pillow and blanket kicked aside—begins to slow the tide of panic.

 

Law drags a slightly trembling hand down his face. His own lungs suddenly seem to remember how to fully expand, and he draws in the much needed oxygen. His pulse is still pounding away in his ears, but at least the spots in his vision are starting to fade. It’s enough for Law to finally start taking in other, equally familiar objects—like the beat up antique coffee table;  the outdated entertainment center with the missing corner, even the beige pleather couch that he’s currently sitting on—and he knows, _exactly_ where he is.

 

It’s not his apartment, but it is home. For a few blissful moments Law allows the comforting feeling of being back in Roci’s house to wash over him. The soft sounds of Kidd dozing on the floor, the ticking of the ancient wall clock, the whirling of the ceiling fan above—all these sounds begin to ground him, and for a moment, it soothes away the bad dreams.

 

But then the world starts to turn again and reality comes crashing down on him. The true impact of where he is and why he’s there hits him with all the finesse of a Mac truck. The memories of the last few days come pouring in and he remembers everything. From the phone call to the funeral and even last night—the confusion and disbelief, the rage and the guilt, and the drinking. God. He had done a lot of drinking. But he had needed it—needed something to drown out the visions in his head.

 

Resting his elbows against his knees, Law drops his head to his hands. He combs his fingers through his thick black hair—longer than he normally kept it—with its ends that are curling up wildly. His cheeks and jawline are shadowed in two days worth of growth and his clothes are crumpled and damp from sweat.

 

All in all, Law looked almost as bad as he felt—and he _felt_ like hammered shit.

 

He hasn’t had issues with night terrors since he was younger—but of course they would come back to bite him in the ass now. Nothing like a fresh hellish trauma to give a guy all-new nightmares. At least this latest one had been relatively mild, and thank god, there hadn’t been any screaming involved. Law would have never lived that down.

 

Even so, his fingers still itched for the handle of his Nodachi—which, if he remembers correctly—he’d left on the kitchen table. This, and the fact that he can smell coffee from that general direction, is enough to get him to his feet.  Due to Bonney’s noticeable absence, Law comes to the conclusion that she must be responsible for the wonderful aroma, and once  again, he finds himself making yesterday’s mental reiteration of ‘thank-fucking-god-for-sisters’. 

 

Stepping around Kidd Law makes his way through the house. The first thing he sees is his sister, she’s sitting at the table, legs curled up in the runs of her chair, typing away on a laptop, and across from her is Kikoku, still safe inside its sheathe. He went straight for the Nodachi, feeling much better once the weight of it was in his hands. Bonnie looks up, giving him a quick wry smile, but doesn’t say a word. She just goes back to whatever she’s doing on the computer.

 

Law’s eyes narrow. “Don’t remember you being a morning person,” he grumbles voice still rough from sleep.

 

“I’m not,” Bonney says, manicured fingers tapping away at the keyboard. “I’m still on New World time.” 

 

Law eyes the laptop which, he disdainfully notices, has been bedazzled in pink chrome accents. “Did you have that thing with you last night?” Law doesn’t think so. He just remembers her standing there in the doorway in her pj’s. She’s fully clothed now though, dressed for comfort in a pair of distressed denim cut-offs and plain fitted white tee. Even looks like she’s showered.

 

“No I went back to the hotel this morning to pick it up,” she says, eyebrows scrunching together as she scrolls through something. Probably the latest trend reports. “There’s some stuff I need to do for work.”

 

Law just grunts, before shifting his focus to the steaming cup she’s got at the table next to her. “Coffee?”

 

Bonney jerks a thumb over her shoulder.

 

Law grunts again—It’s pretty much a language for him when he’s hung-over—shouldering his Nodachi before shuffling over to the coffee pot.

 

Speaking of which, jet-lagged or not, his sister is looking remarkably alert considering the drinking that the three of them did last night. But then, his sister never _had_ suffered from hangovers.

 

Bonney’s metabolism was such a monster that she never really got drunk in the first place, and therefore, she’d never really suffered from hangovers. Kidd was kind of the same, except he actually _did_ get shitfaced, and often. Law’s going theory was that his brother’s brain was just too stupid to understand the meaning of “Hang-over” therefore, logically, it couldn’t have one.

 

Law was beginning to question his own mental prowess after letting Kidd talk him into drinking all that moonshine.

 

Either way, he definitely envied his siblings this morning.

 

After his first cup is finished he decides that he really needs to get out of yesterdays clothes. Appearances aside, the dry-clean-only fabric is beginning to itch. Bonney informs him that his suitcase (which she herself had packed—yesterday really wasn’t his most shining moment) is in the downstairs master bathroom.

 

Not feeling particularly ambitious, he foregoes a shower, but he does shave and brush his teeth (He even makes a feeble attempt to bring his hair under some kind of control, but as usual it pretty much did as it pleased—just one of the reasons Law owned as many hats as he did.) before changing into a pair of light form-fitting jeans and black button down shirt.

 

Twenty minutes later Bonney is still engrossed in the computer and Law is back at the table and feeling slightly better. He hangs his Nodachi on the back of his chair before heading back to the coffee pot.

 

He’s sitting down and finishing off his second cup of coffee when he hears Kidd starting to stir in the living room. He’s slow to rise but, as Law predicted, when he arrives leaning on the doorframe, he doesn’t look like he’s particularly suffering.

 

“Man,” Kidd groans, scratching his head, stretching out the vertebra in his back, each joint giving an audible pop. “That floor is a _lot_ harder than I remember.”

 

“Then _next_ time,” Bonney tells him dryly, her eyes still glued to her computer screen. “Try sleeping in a _bed_. Like a normal human being.”

 

“ _Right_ ,” Kidd rolls his eyes. “This coming from someone who spent the night on the _couch._ ” Bonney just shrugs. Because, yeah. Whatever. “Please tell me someone made coffee?”

 

Law and Bonney both jerk a thumb towards the coffee pot.

 

“If you finish it off, make more,” Bonney says, “I’ve still got a lot of shit to do and I need the caffeine.”

 

Kidd grumbles, “Yeah, yeah,” waving a dismissive hand and makes his way to the counter.

 

Law is just about to join him and refresh his own cup, when he hears the ominous sound of a certain drawer opening and closing. _‘He wouldn’t,’_ he thinks. But then realizes, duh, it’s Kidd. Of course he would.

 

Sure enough, he turns around to see the idiot lighting up what looks like a hand rolled cigarette, an act of pure masochism in the presence of their sister. But that’s not the worst of it. The worst comes when the smell hits them.

 

Bonney, seemingly unaware until that moment, strikes the mouse pad with unnecessary force, before turning around, slowly, mouth dropping open. “ _Eustass Kidd_ ,” she says, ominously. “Is that—are you smoking _pot_?”

 

Kidd, suicidal idiot that he is, just grins back at her, tilting his head to the side. “Possibly,” he says flippantly. Leaning back against the counter, he takes a long, slow drag, before exhaling the smoke, with its unmistakable odor, through sharp teeth. “Why?” he asks. “You want some?”

 

Bonney’s eyes narrow “Doesn’t the military drug-test for _morons_?” she practically hisses. If she’d been a cat, all of her fur would have been standing on end. As it was she still looked capable of clawing Kidd’s smug face off.

 

“Nah,” Kidd says, shrugging nonchalantly. “My CO’s cool.”

 

Knowing he couldn’t have made it through the airport while holding, Law wonders where he even got the shit from. Then again, he supposed that, like Smoker’s moonshine, it was probably something that he’d just conveniently commandeered.

 

“Besides,” Kidd continues. “It’s the best cure for the morning-after.”

 

_‘For the hangover you don’t have.’_ Law wants to say, but instead he raises his brows and asks “What happened to hair-of-the-dog?”

 

“Mhmn,” Kidd mumbles around the joint. “This shit bit the dog,” he takes another hit before leaning forward and offering the joint to Law.

 

Law wavers, eyeing it skeptically for a moment “ _Just_ pot right?”

 

Kidd rolls his eyes. “It’s a hundred percent kosher.”

 

Law had his doubts about whether or not Kidd even knew what that word meant. Bonney is shooting him pointed looks of ‘Don’t-you-dare’ But with his head still reeling in the aftermath of last night, Law finds himself reaching for the offering anyway.

 

“Trafalgar Law!” Boy, Bonney was really using a lot of whole-names this morning. Her mouth is open in disbelief. “I _know_ they drug-test for stupid _doctors_.”

 

“Cardiothoracic Surgeon,” he corrects automatically, taking the joint, then shrugging  one shoulder, “—and I’m on sabbatical.” Sitting sideways with one arm sung over the back of the chair, he takes a long drag. It’s been a while, so of course he coughs a bit on the exhale. He clears his throat while Bonney is busy sending homicidal vibes in his direction. Law sends her an unaffected look. “Come on Bonney,” he reasons, “Like _you’ve_ never smoked.”

 

“In _college_!” she protests.

 

Law rolls his eyes. Like at twenty-four college was _so_ long ago.

 

“Two-to-One Bon-bon,” Kidd grins. “You know the rules.”

 

“Nuh-uh,” Bonney shakes her head, sweeping one arm to the side in a dismissive gesture “No way. Doesn’t count,” she says, dramatically closing up her laptop, unplugging it from the charger. “I’ll be in the living room,” she huffs “Preserving what’s left of my brain-cells after growing up with you two _morons_.”

 

Kidd calls after her retreating form, “Spoilsport!” Leaning back against the counter he tilts his head to one side, seemingly disappointed. “You know,” he says “I think she’s starting to mellow in her old age,” then in a louder voice he adds, “ _It’s hard to recognize her when she’s not hitting us!_ ”

 

Quick reflexes—and years of experience—has Kidd ducking to the side just as a shoe flies from the living room straight at his head. “Hearing’s still good,” he chuckles. “—aim could use some work though.”

 

Law rolls his eyes. “You’re a sucker for pain.”

 

“Says The Illustrated Man.”

 

Law shrugs. “Good book.”

 

Kidd’s face scrunches up, “There’s a book?”

 

Law gives Kidd a flat look, no longer phased by his brother’s lack of literary knowledge.

 

Kid just shrugs, “Eh. Whatever.”

 

Yeah, whatever. Law is starting to feel nice and floaty by the time he passes the joint back. For once, he was willing to admit that maybe Kidd had a point. His head was starting to feel much better. Kidd himself is busy plundering around the kitchen, searching for munchies; Law’s not really paying much attention until “Oh. _Man_.”

 

Law turns and looks at his brother. “What?”

 

He holds up a plate that Law easily recognizes, and it makes his stomach twist at the thought.

 

“Who ate the toxic fudge?” Kidd’s lip curls up in disgust.

 

“Ugh,” Law groans, slightly queasy. “Someone with a death wish,” he says, and then he remembers. “Ah, shit… _HEY BONNEY_!” he shouts.

 

“ _Don’t yell! I can hear you!_ ” Law rolls his eyes, because despite this statement, she’s shouting too.

 

“ _Have you seen the cat?”_

 

“What cat?” Kidd asks.

 

“ _No_ ,” Bonney calls back. “ _I haven’t seen your stupid coyote._ ” There’s a pause, then “ _Why?_ ”

 

“There’s a coyote?” Kidd’s face scrunches up, even more confused.

 

Law ignores his brother. “ _Something ate Tsuru’s fudge!_ ”

 

Another pause, and then “ _Really_?”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. What about a coyote?” Kidd waves his arms in front of Laws face. “Helloooo?”

 

Law rolls his eyes, and smacks Kidd’s hands away. “There _is_ no coyote,” he says, annoyed. “Just one big stupid cat.” Looking back at the empty plate, Law mutters, “Probably a _dead_ cat by now if it really did eat that shit.”

 

_“Law,”_ Bonney says warningly. “ _You better not have killed Roci’s cat already!”_ God that woman had sonar for ears.

 

_“I didn’t kill shit_!” he snaps back. If anyone killed the stupid cat it was Old Lady Tsuru—that fudge really should seriously come with its own bio-hazard warning.

 

“You killed Roci’s cat?” comes Kidd’s shocked commentary

 

“Oh my god!” Law throws up his arms, completely exasperated. Sometimes, Law really wanted to strangle his siblings. Why had he wanted them staying here again?

 

And then, just to top things off, there’s a loud thump from upstairs. Both Kidd and Law look up. “Speaking of Devil-cat” Law mutters darkly. “If it isn’t dead and or dying—then I’m going to kill it.” Law scowls throwing a frustrated arm up towards the ceiling, “I swear, it’s been banging around up there all night!”

 

From corner of his eye, something catches Kidd’s short attention span. He blinks, tilting his head to the side. “You’re talking about the cat right?”

 

“Yes-the-fucking-cat! Can’t you hear it?” But Kidd isn’t even looking at Law.

 

Kidd just hmms, tapping Laws shoulder and pointing down, “ _That_ cat?”

 

“Wait,” Law blinks. “ _Huh_?” And sure enough, there’s Catzilla, slinking beneath the table. It freezes to a stop, puffing up and glaring hatefully back at Law.

 

“Damn,” says Kidd, sounding impressed. “That is one _big_ fucking cat.” The cat hisses, all teeth and claws, looking like it wants to take another swipe at Law’s face. Kidd raises his brows. “And he really doesn’t like you Law.”

 

Law is about start saying something along the lines of ‘ _I-told-you-so!’_ when there’s another suspicious thump from above. “Aw, man,” Law groans, face palming himself. “I knew it.”

 

“Knew what?” Kidd asks, toeing around to the other side of the table, carefully avoiding getting too close to monster cat, just incase it decides it wants to lump him into the same category as Law.

 

“Rats,” says Law, grabbing his Nodachi off the back of the chair before storming out of the kitchen. “Fucking rats!”

 

Kidd blinks. “And?” he stubs out the forgotten joint in the ashtray. “Just what the hell are you going to do with a sword?”

 

“What do you think? I’m going to kill them,” Law growls, and his feet are already pounding up the stairs, cursing both vermin and stupid useless cats alike.

 

“Law?” Bonney calls, but he doesn’t respond. She puts down her computer and decides to stick her head in the kitchen. “What’s up with him?” she says, then she sees the grizzly colored cat lurking beneath the table and has to do a double take. “Well shit,” she whistles under her breath, and can’t help but sounding impressed because it really _was_ the size of a damn dog. “Hello _Catzilla_.”

 

“Hey Bon,” Kidd nudges her with his elbow. “Law’s going to kill a rat…” Bonney raises her brows like ‘ _So?’_ before Kidd finishes, “—with his _sword.”_

 

Bonney blinks, eyebrows rising higher. “Seriously?”

 

The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. “Wanna watch?”

 

X X X

 

Meanwhile, upstairs, Law was about to get the shock of his life. And it didn’t have a damn thing to do with rats. At least not of the furry variety. Marching straight up and making a B-line to his old room, Law unsheathes Kikoku and flings the door open.

 

But instead of creepy diseased little rodents, he finds something else altogether.

 

In fact, not a _something_ at all, but a _someone_.

 

And that someone was currently sprawled out across the floor.

 

“A… kid?” Laws brows furrow as his brain tries to process exactly what he’s seeing.

 

“What?” Kidd suddenly pops up beside him, catching himself on the doorframe.

 

“No not—not you.” Law points, “There. I mean…it…it’s a kid.”

 

Kidd turns and looks, “Oh…my god.” His brother’s mouth soundlessly drops open. Law is just nodding, glad someone else is just as shocked as he is and then “What did you _do?”_

 

Wait. What?

 

“Me?!” Laws mouth gapes in disbelief.

 

“What?” asks Bonney, squeezing in beside them, “What’d he do?”

 

“Law killed a kid!” Kidd blurted.

 

“He WHAT?!”

 

“I _what_?!” Law gasps, but then Bonney is staring at him with huge eyes and he realizes he’s still holding his unsheathed sword. He instantly drops it like its smoldering. ”I didn’t do anything!”

 

“You said you were going to kill it!”

 

“Rats! I said I was going to kill RATS. Big. Fucking. Difference!” Law glares at his brother incredulously. “Just how fucking stoned are you?!”

 

Bonney is standing there with a hand over her mouth chanting “Oh-my-god” over and over and Law just wants to snap, because, really? Her too? She wasn’t even high! “What is wrong with you people?!” Rats aside, why the hell did people keep accusing him of killing things this morning?

 

“You’re the dude with the _sword_!” Kidd accuses.

 

“Does he LOOK dead to you?” Kidd and Bonney both turn to look at the boy, and yeah, okay, maybe he is laying there kind of awkwardly… and not moving. But then his chest visibly rises and falls and Law takes a breath of relief. “See?” he points. “The kid’s just sleeping.”

 

Bonney still doesn’t look completely convinced. “Law…”

 

“Oh COME on!” Law is two seconds short of pulling his own hair out. “I didn’t _do_ anything!”

 

“Yeah okay,” Bonney agrees. “But maybe…” she chews at her bottom lip worriedly. “—maybe you should check him out. I mean,” she swallows. “…is it _normal_ for someone to _still_ be sleeping? You know, after all the yelling?”

 

Kidd makes a sound in agreement.

 

Law blinks. Okay maybe she had a point, but “Why me?”

 

“You’re the damn doctor!” she hisses, shoving him forward.

 

“Augh!” Law groans. “Fine!” he enters the room, leaving Kidd and Bonney to look on from the doorway. “You are both fucking useless,” he mutters, giving them one last dark look. He’d have expected it from strangers, but would it kill his family to have just a _little_ faith in him? He swore, one of these days they were both going to wake up to a nasty surprise.

 

Bonney ignores his hostile glaring and motions him forward with a wave of her hand, like ‘ _Just-hurry-up-already.’_

 

Law flips them both a choice middle finger before turning back to the kid who’d started this whole mess. Just what the fuck was he doing here passed out on the floor anyway?

 

Law sighs and kneels down.

 

Up close it’s easier to tell that he’s breathing just fine. Hell, he’s even drooling a bit. His bottom half is twisted up in a sheet that’s hanging half off the mattress—like he’d simply fallen off the bed. The kid was obviously pretty young, Law wouldn’t peg him as any more than fifteen, and that was pushing it. His shaggy pitch black hair was wild and curved around a face that still had a child’s softness.

 

Law was a little concerned that maybe he’d hit his head, but the only visible blemish he can see is a finely curved and obviously old scar, just below one of his eyes. He definitely didn’t look like your typical burglar that was for sure. But it still didn’t explain how or why he was up here.

 

Only one way to do that. And that was to wake sleeping beauty up so that Law could ask him himself.

 

“Hey,” Law nudges his shoulder, carefully. “Hey kid.” He gets no response, the kids eyes don’t even flicker, so he tries again, leaning over and pushing just a little harder. “Hey. Wake-up.” Still nothing. Jeez, and he’d thought Kidd was hard to wake up. Maybe he really had hit his head? “Wake. Up!”

 

Law is about to try some drastic measures, because he’s starting worry that there really is something wrong, when the boy’s face twitches and he lets out a sleepy little moan. Law lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Finally. “Hey,” he says, eyeing the boy cautiously as he starts to rouse. “You okay?”

 

“Mmh?” The kid’s brows furrow for a moment, but then his eyes flicker and dark lashes start to rise, giving way to the biggest, darkest eyes Law has ever seen.

 

‘ _Like black glass_ ,’ Law thinks to himself. Obsidian.

 

Law doesn’t really have time to dwell upon their color for long though—because now it’s clear that their owner is becoming aware—and they are now widening in shock, maybe even fear.

 

“Uh. Hey—“ Law starts but he’s cut off when the kid screams, loud enough to make Laws ears feel like they are bleeding, almost putting Bonney to shame.

 

“AHHH!”

 

“Hang-on. Wait—“ Law holds up his hands, he’s about to explain, but then—

 

WHAM!

 

The kid swings.

 

And Law’s face explodes in a sharp pain.

 

X X X

 

The kid’s name is Luffy, and he is seventeen, not fifteen. Law learns that much as he sits there, listening and watching in complete disbelief as his brother and sister crowd around the little trespasser, inquisitively asking every question but the most important one.

 

“Just what the hell were you doing up there anyway?” Law growls, still holding his abused cheek. Damn kid. He hit way harder than Bonney. It’d been a long time since someone had managed to pop Law in the face, and yeah, okay. So maybe he was a little sore about it.

The boy, Luffy, looks at Law then, almost like he’d forgotten he was even in the room, which was pretty insulting after hitting a guy in the face. “I was sleeping.” The kid says slowly, as if Law were incredibly stupid. Law wants to pop this kid in the head already.

 

“Yes,” Law grits out. “—so we’ve established. But how the hell did you even get up there?”

 

“Oh, that. I climbed the tree,” Luffy says, with a shrug, “Came in through the window.” Both Law and his sister’s jaws drop.

 

 “You climbed up that _tree_?!” Bonney gasps, sounding completely affronted

 

Law was affronted as well, though his thoughts were more along the line of ‘You-broke-in-through-my-window?!’ (Even if it was something Law himself had done many times…) Now Bonney’s clinging to him, hugging the boy against her chest like some tragic baby bird who’d just fallen from the nest.

 

Law is making exaggerated what-the-hell motions with his hands. “ _Why_ are you hugging him? _He broke into the house!”_ Just where the hell was his vicious junkyard dog of a sister? And who the hell was this creepy maternal-looking doppelganger?

 

Bonney gives him a look then that could skin a man alive. ‘ _And there she is_ ,’ Law thinks, mentally rolling his eyes.

 

“Well I wouldn’t have had to break in anywhere if you hadn’t moved the _spare key_!” says the boy defensibly.

 

“Yeah Law,” Bonney glares petulantly. “Why’d you move the spare key?”

 

Laws eyebrows shoot up, because, seriously?! What? Was this kid made out of some version of Bonney-catnip? “Who’s side are you on?!”

 

Bonney gives him a haughty look that pointedly says ‘ _the-not-your-_ side- _side-of-course_ ’

 

“And why the hell couldn’t he have wrung the damn bell?” Law hisses “Like a _normal_ visitor?”

 

“Because!” the boy retorts, “You were all sleeping!” His dark eyes flash then, “And besides! I’m not the visitor—I live here!”

 

_Oh-like-hell_ —!

 

“ _SINCE WHEN_?!” Law feels like his eyes are going to pop out, or maybe he’s about to have an aneurysm, because just what the _hell_ was this little sister-snatching jerk-face saying right now??

 

“ _Since six months ago!”_ Luffy shouts back defiantly, giving as good as he got, which under normal circumstances might have impressed Law—but not today.

 

“ _Yeah?!_ _Then why the hell did Roci never mention you?!_ ” Some boxes—whatever. A cat? Sure. A-goddamned-kid?! Bullshit!

 

“MAYBE it’s because YOU were NEVER AROUND!” the kid spat angrily.

 

And ouch. Law visibly flinches because, damn, that one hurt. Even his sister seemed to be losing some of her hostility because the kid had really hit home with that last one. A thousand emotions are flooding through Law all at once: regret, shame, some he doesn’t even have a name for—but below that is anger. And that was something he could deal with. Ignoring the crushing wave of guilt, Law immediately goes on the defensive, roaring “ _ITS CALLED A FUCKING PHONE!”_

 

Bonney stands up, putting herself between the two of them while making open handed gestures to try and defuse the situation just a bit. “Hang on. _Law_ —”

 

“ _FORGET IT!”_ Luffy shouts right back, jumping to his feet he maneuvers around Bonney, not the slightest bit intimidated. “You want me gone then fine! I’ll grab my stuff and I’m out of here!”

 

“Luffy, sweetie,” says Bonney sadly. “You can’t just—“

 

But Law cuts her off, too angry to care, too emotionally bankrupt to stop and think before shouting, “Oh _YES_ he can! There’s the fucking door!”

 

“Law, dude—” Kidd finally tries to intercede, but Law isn’t having any of it.

 

“ _Shut it_ Kidd!”

 

“Fine,” Luffy glares at him scathingly. “Give me ten minutes and I’m out of here!” The teen turns and storms from the kitchen, Law can hear his angry footsteps echoing all the way up the stairs.

 

“YOU”VE GOT FIVE!” Law hears a door slamming upstairs, and remembers how many times he himself had slammed that very same door.

 

He wishes he had something to slam now and barely resists the childish impulse to throw something.

 

The silence of the aftermath was deafening.

 

It was too quiet— Law could feel the barometric pressure of the room steadily dropping and mentally braced himself for the inevitable. His sister didn’t _do_ quiet—if she wasn’t talking, you knew Hurricane Bonney was about to hit. And sure enough…

 

“Are you done being a dick now?” Bonney asks, frigidly.

 

“No!” Law snaps, frustrated. “I mean yes— _no_. I don’t know!” Finally giving in, he kicks the side of the cabinet. “I’m just—I’m fucking pissed Bon—I mean—really!?” Law runs mildly trembling tattooed hands through his already disheveled hair, pacing angrily from one end of the kitchen to the other. “You and I both know Roci stepped on _a lot_ of toes, and crossed _every line_ he ever met, but this—this is a whole new level of bullshit, even for him!” Law shakes his head, “I mean, come on— _hiding a fucking kid?_ Do you know how much deep shit he’d have been in if he’d been caught? We’re talking aiding a runaway at best, or even _kidnapping_!” Law continues his rant arms gesturing wildly, trying to deliver the full impact of the situation—only to look over at his siblings and see that, while Kidd’s giving him a bored look—his sister is simply glaring at him with violet eyes that are practically crackling like lightening.

 

“Oh no, don’t give me that look—”

 

But Bonney just jumps right in—head first, as always—zeroing into the heart of the matter, “Is it really the rules you’re so concerned with Law?” Bonney crosses her arms. “Or is it the fact that he didn’t tell you?”

 

“BOTH!” Law automatically growls, though it’s not the truth. He was furious, but if he was being honest, it wasn’t the rules; he didn’t really give a fuck about rules. He and Roci had always had that in common. But _why?_

 

Laws pacing slows. First it had been the stupid boxes in his room, then the stupid cat, and now a kid? “Why? Why couldn’t he have told me? Told any of us?” Law’s fists clench as he pulls at his hair. “ _Why_ keep this kid a secret?” He doesn’t even realize he’s asked the question out loud until his sister responds.

 

“ _Gee_ Law, I have no idea!” his sisters eyes widen in mock wonder, before narrowing once again. “But while you’re busy down here— _arguing with a dead man…_ ” Bonney drawls out and Law visibly flinches. His sister obviously didn’t give a fuck about throwing stones today. _“_ —the only one who _might_ have the answers is upstairs _packing his shit to go god knows where!”_

 

And. Fuck.

 

Laws shoulders slumped. It was true. Yes—he was pissed; but it wasn’t really this kid’s fault. No. Law was pissed at Roci and himself. Leaning heavily against the counter, he let his head drop down, shut his eyes tightly, and took a long, deep breath, before looking at his sister with grey clouded eyes. “He should have told me. He should have told us.”

 

Bonney’s disposition softened, if only a fraction. “I’m sure he had his reasons. Maybe he was going to tell us,” a small hand places itself on his shoulder. “He didn’t plan on dying Law.”

 

“But he did… And now—what? Tell me Bonney, what am I supposed to do?” Law asks, and he wasn’t completely sure whether or not the question was rhetorical. He was just—entirely over his head. He wanted and _needed_ answers, but he doubted his sister had any for him. Of course, she had one for him anyway.

 

“You’re the smart one,” Bonney gave him a soft shove. “Figure it out.” There might have been a ghost of a smile on her face, but then “ _In the mean time_ —you’d better get you’re ass up those stairs and fix what you broke.” Hurricane Bonney strikes again.

 

Law straightens up, nodding resignedly, before finally looking at his brother, who’s remained uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole tirade. “What, you have something to add?”

 

“Nah bro.”  Kidd shakes his head. “Two-to-one. You were a dick.” Coming from the self proclaimed king of assholes, that one actually stung a bit.

 

“Yeah…” Law sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yeah—I know.”

 

Laws trip upstairs is a slow one; more a walk of shame than anything.

 

It was rare that he ever apologized—even with family—but even he knew when he’d fucked up. So much shit had been sprung on him this week; he supposed it was probably inevitable that he’d snapped under the pressure—he just regretted that it had been on some teenager he’d never met before—Bonney or Kidd would have understood.

 

But god, how much was one guy supposed to take? How many more cases of whiplash could Law withstand?

 

“Got anymore surprises, Corazon?” Law looks up, not really sure why. He was far too logical, some might say, too cynical, to believe in things like heaven or angels… _but._ He was also never one to hedge his bets against Roci. In life, he’d been like a living force of nature—if ever there was someone pigheaded enough to stick around after death just to meddle in the affairs of their children—that someone would’ve been Roci hands down. And Law could easily imagine the smiley bastard looking down right now, laughing his ass off at the mess Law had fallen into.

 

“A little warning would have been nice,” Law mutters under his breath, scowling. “Just what the hell am I supposed to do with a kid?” He really wasn’t sure who that last question had been directed towards—some cosmically governing force, the imaginal existential version of his foster father, or himself.

 

X X X

 

Law is cautious to open the door, he can hear the teen stomping around and the hollow thud of boxes being harshly shifted. He braces himself, ready to apologize but then as soon as the door is cracked widely enough, a colossal sized furball darts right between his legs, leaving Law hoping on one foot. “Jesus!”

 

Said stupid furball jumps on top of the bed, clearly undaunted by the chaos, and _clearly_ unimpressed with Laws colorful flow of expletives—which couldn’t have come at a more inappropriate time.

 

“Oh _now_ what,” The kid spins around, rolling his eyes and throwing his arms up. “Did you have to come watch me pack? Scared I’m going to steal something? Well I ain’t a damn thief!” The boy throws Law a hostile glare before emphasizing, “—and I don’t break into houses either!”

 

Ah, shit. “No that’s not—I mean I don’t—” God, it was a good thing Law didn’t apologize often, because obviously he sucked at it. He probably should have asked Kidd if he had another joint before trying to have this conversation. Taking a deep breath Law tries to explain, “That’s not why I’m here. I—”

 

But the kid isn’t listening, too busy piling some clothes into a beat-up old book-bag. “Let me guess, you called the cops right? Well too bad—I’ll be long gone before they get here.”

 

Hold up, hang on. “No you won’t,” Law says firmly. “You can’t just leave—“

 

“Like hell.” Luffy punctuates his statement with a rude sound. “You can’t just keep me here.”

 

“That’s not what I meant, look—will you just chill out! I didn’t call anyone.”

 

The kid finally stops, swinging around and eyeing Law suspiciously. “Then what _are_ you talking about?”

 

Law rubs the back of his neck, possibly in a sheepish manner, before clearing his throat. “I mean, you can’t just leave… because you live here, don’t you?” Law holds his breath.

 

Luffy blinks, studying Law for a moment, then his eyes shutter. “Apparently not anymore.” He turns around and continues packing, but at a slower, less frantic pace. “You made it perfectly clear—you don’t want me here.”

 

Law presses forward. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Look—” Law moves the block the kid’s path, “—this is still Roci’s house, and he wanted you here.” Luffy looks like he’s ready to argue some more but Law holds up a hand. “Hang on just—just hear me out, okay?” Law takes a deep breath, “I’m… I’m sorry okay? I was just—I was mad. But not—not at you… Okay? …Sometimes I just lose my temper—” Luffy raises his eyebrows incredulously. “…okay, maybe _more_ than sometimes—but, it’s not that I don’t want you here, really—I just… I wish he would have told me.”

 

“Well…” And maybe it’s because Law is looking as defeated as he feels, but the teen’s demeanor loses some of its antagonism, “… I’m sorry he didn’t.”

 

“Do…” Law bites his lip. “—I mean… do you have any idea why?”

 

“I…” Luffy’s face flushes, suddenly it seems like the wall is more interesting than Law. “—I really don’t know… sorry.”

 

Law raises a brow. Okay, note to self—this kid couldn’t lie for shit. But that was okay, at least he knew _something_ , Law could work with that.

 

“It’s fine,” Law says, making sure to cast his eyes down sadly. Looking up from beneath his lashes he can actually see the kid swallow nervously. Oh, yeah—Law could definitely work this kid; it would just take a time—and little finessing. “I guess there were a lot of things he forgot to mention,” Law inclines his head towards Monster Cat, who’s looking damn comfortable all curled up on top of a pillow.

 

Luffy looks at him curiously, before following his sightline to the furry devil, “Oh, her?”

 

_Her?_ Laws face screws up, but then the kid is reaching out, Laws eyes widen and he holds up a hand about to tell the kid to _hold on_ …!

 

But then “You…have _got_ to be shitting me.” Catzilla is sitting up, pressing forward to nuzzle against Luffy’s outreached hand. Law’s jaw drops. Luffy casually lifts the massive beast—the same massive beast who’d tried to gauge Laws face off—and it’s just… _accepting_ it. All calm and serene—like an actual _pussycat!_

 

“This is Boo,” Luffy says.

 

_Boo?!_

 

“She’s a Mainecoon She’s kinda pudgy, I know, but—”

 

_Kind-of…_?!

FAT! That thing was fucking-FAT! And mean! And vicious! And—

 

“—she’s a total sweetie.” Said _sweetie_ was currently being cradled like an infant, butting its head against the underside of Luffy’s chin, lavishing the boy with its affections—and was that… _purring?_

 

Like a goddamn-motorboat.

 

And physical manifestation of evil…

 

“ _The hell?_ ”

 

Luffy’s brows furrow, “Did you say something?”

 

Law has to actually shake his head to clear it. He can’t let himself be distracted. “No, I uh—ehem,” Law coughs, practically biting his own tongue off. “So it’s—I mean _she_ —she’s _your_ cat?”

 

Luffy shrugs. “Well, not really, she kinda wanders…” Dark eyes suddenly narrow as the teen looks at Law skeptically. “Why? Are you going to kick her out too?”

 

“No—nobody’s being kicked out.” Law rolls his eyes. “I already told you—this is still Roci’s house. And it’s obviously your home,” Law motions at all the boxes and clutter strewn around the room. “Where else are you going to go?” Not back home, obviously.

 

“There’s a shelter—” Luffy starts, but Law is quick to nip that one.

 

“That _will_ call the cops on you—you’re an unaccompanied minor. They’d have to report you—” Law eyes the boy who’s looking rather guilty; like a child caught telling a fib. “…but you already knew that didn’t you?”

 

Luffy gives a sort of noncommittal shrug, before looking at Law cautiously. “So…its—it’s okay? If… we stay?” he asks hesitantly, but before Law can respond he rushes to finish, “I mean it would only be for a few months—just until May.”

 

Law raises a brow. “What happens in May?”

 

Luffy shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “I turn eighteen—that was the deal.”

 

Law nods. Okay, alright—that was less than six months. That was nothing. “Fine, but on one condition,” he says. Luffy looks at him, visibly anxious, slender arms tightening around the obese feline that’s still being cradled against him. 

 

Law tilts his head towards the window, “No more trees. Bonney’s right, you’ll break your neck—and don’t you _dare_ tell her I said that.”

 

“Right,” Luffy rolls his eyes, ignoring Law’s threat “Cause it’d be a real shame for you if I broke my neck,” he says, though his body language is clearly relaxing. No longer ready to run.

 

Law snorts, “Of course it would—I’m a surgeon. Who do you think Bonney would make put you back together?”

 

“No way,” the corner of Luffy’s mouth quirks. “—you’d end up giving me an ass for an elbow.”

 

“Pfft, you’re damn straight. So,” Law raises a brow, “—no more trees right?”

 

The kid finally cracks a smile, and it’s like the sun coming out, bright and sunny and it makes Law feel kind of warm, when he hadn’t even realized he’d been cold. “No,” Luffy says, shaking his head. “No more trees.”

 

“Good,” and Law smiles, just a small smile, because he just can’t help himself. “Now, let’s go back downstairs before Mama Bear comes up here and tries to maul me.”

 

“Your sister is nice,” Luffy comments, while putting ‘ _Boo’_ back down on the bed.

 

Law snorts, because no one in the history of mankind has ever referred to his sister as nice.

 

Nice and crazy was more like it.

 

“Sure,” he says. Turning to leave the room, Law accidently kicks an empty can that rattles out into the hallway, which reminded him: “Oh, and one more thing.” Law swings back around, grey eyes clashing with black. “I’ll let you keep my room,” not like Law was actually using it anymore, “—but do you think you could pick up some of this trash?” Before they actually had _real_ rats. Honestly, Kidd was enough of a slob, Law didn’t think the house could survive another human garbage dispenser.

 

“Oh—uh, yeah. I can do that,” Luffy gives a sheepish grin before sidestepping Law and ducking out the door behind him.

 

Law just shakes his head, then turns and follows.

 

Okay, so he could do this. Six months. How hard could it be to manage _one_ kid who was practically grown? Roci had managed to put up with all three of them all the way through puberty. Law could handle just one lousy teenager who was practically an adult. How much looking after could he really need?

 

He actively ignored the voice in the back of his head as it recounted all the things _he’d_ done at Luffy’s age. Because that was totally different. There was no way Luffy could be half as bad as he was.

 

They were halfway down the stairs when Luffy suddenly clutches his stomach. “Oh man…”

 

Law stops, “What? What’s wrong?” he starts, but then notices the kid’s pale face—it’s one he recognizes from his days as a medical intern. “Ah shit, you didn’t— _you_ ate the toxic fudge?”

 

“I think—I think I’m gonna be…” That was all the warning he got before Luffy lost his stomach all over Law’s leather shoes.

 

‘Right,” Law thought. ‘No trouble at all.’

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, quick note: yes Maincoon’s are real cats. Yes, they can get fucking huge. Seriously Google it. Also I really want to thank the Guest who reviewed the last chapter—I must have read it a hundred times, no joke. Totally made my week (which might be sad—but doesn’t make it less true.) and made me really want to finish this chapter. And thanks to those who fav/followed this story, it means a lot to me.
> 
> Lastly I would like to mention that this whole thing is un-beta-ed so if there are any glaring mistakes feel free to point them out and I’ll try to fix them. I’ll probably end up editing this later anyways, but at the moment I’ve read through it so many times that it all just kind of blurs together. So if there’s places that are kind of stinted or seem too rushed, words used way too often, wonky dialogue, or just plain old typo’s please tell me. It is my first fic and I’m trying to get better. 
> 
> Other than that, please let me know what you think.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is something I wrote several months ago, but since I'm new to a03 I wanted to put it on here too. It kind of went on an unofficial hiatus after my computer 1 erased it and 2 died and deleted the whole damn thing. By the time I got my new laptop I'd gotten tired of trying to rewrite the same chapter for the 3rd time in a row. I took a breather. But now I'm determined to continue this, because I do love it.
> 
>  
> 
> ____________________________________________________________________________________________________


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